Waffle House — Restaurant in Tucson

Time and time again, life throws obstacles and hardships at me. And we all learn, through the wisest among us, that a man's true character is only shown when he faces life's hardest battles. Waffle House has always been there for me, swimming with the ebbs and flows of my own private ocean of sin and shine. It was there for me when I had a traumatizing breakup. It was there for me when I lost a drunken arm wrestling contest with an autistic biker from guatamala and it was certainly there for me when I celebrated every time a girl didn't end up pregnant after trivia night at Salty Dog II.

I come to this waffle house because it feels like a familiar, warm hug. A dangerous, 4am hug that may or may not turn into a sword fight or brass knuckled melee at any given moment. I come here during the witching hours when all the angels are asleep and the devils freely roam the yellowed tiles of flourescent despair. Certain nights have me feeling dead inside, and walking into the house of waffles makes me feel alive again. Slurred recollections and loud diatribes from the other lost souls echoes across the booze stained bar countertop while I watched Tammy prepare my dish of choice---Papa Joe's Pork Chop and Eggs. I don't know who Papa Joe is and I never cared to ask. All I know is that Saint Tammy, in her cobalt blue shirt, black apron and tilted black hat was about to bring order into the chaos. The grill spat and sizzled in delight as my weary, red eyes darted back and forth as tensions escalated between certain individuals while boisterous laughter drowned out time and space between others. One must never call attention to oneself too much, especially alone. It was only a matter of time before one grizzled gentleman took notice of my existence and, before spitting brown liquid into his big gulp cup, asked me what I was doing there. I tried to ignore him, but again, he asked again but louder.

"I'm just here for Papa Joe's Pork Chop and Eggs, my man. I'm not looking for trouble". The grizzled man laughed and the other trucker looking fellow next to him laughed as both of their eyes turned a darker shade of yellow. "Trouble?", he grumbled. "There won't be any if you can tell us how you know Papa Joe, boy". "Listen guys, I don't know who Papa Joe is, but I just like his Pork Chops, okay? Please, I'm not lookin for any---" and before I could finish the grizzled man grabbed me by my face and pulled in closer. "You best be showing some respect, now, you got me!? Papa Joe didn't die in Desert Storm for some little chickenpoop like you to be orderin his pork chops!" and then before I could react, his trucker friend pulled out a butterfly knife to which I reached in my pocket for my breath spray to blind both of them and run but before I could, Tammy turned around from the grill and yelled "ENOUGH!". The entire place went quiet. "Papa Joe was my FATHER and he would NEVER tolerate this nonsense in this house! Jacob, but down the knife before I turn you to hash browns and Sebastian, let go of the boy before I deepfry that sorry patchy excuse for a beard and put you on the menu".

"Yes ma'am" they both fearfullyresponded. The knife dropped and the crowd went back to level 9 stupidity as they both got in a PT Cruiser and drove off into abyss. Tammy didn't even make contact with me and went right back to making my Pork Chop and Eggs. I don't know who Papa Joe was, but he had one hell of a daughter. For me, Tammy makes this Waffle House...a Waffle Home. Plus the airport nearby makes it easy to leave the state in a hurry, if you know what I...

Last night around midnight, my wife, her friend and myself went to the Waffle House on Valencia for something to eat after being at the casino. My wife's friend arrived earlier than we did by a few minutes. She sat in a booth close to the counter, where she made her order early as she likes her steaks cooked well done. We arrived a couple minutes afterwards, at which time she told my wife she was sprayed in her hair, face and jacket by some solution the waiter, later identified as Paul, was spraying behind the counter, she quickly addressed the issue. Upon our arrival she informed us she had already ordered. We were the only customers in the restaurant at the time. We asked what she had ordered and she told us. At that point Paul, the very rude server came over and stated "wait until I get over here to take your orders and don't shout them clear across the restaurant " we informed him we were not talking to him , and in fact my wife and I hadn't even looked at a menu. He became, visibly agitated and I told him again we were not talking to him and not ready to order. I also told him if he wished we could go across the street to Dennys, at which time he left and came back with a receipt and stated "here's your bill, I will not be serving you for the rest of the night". We hadn't ordered, nor received any food or drinks, so we left. It should be noted the cook on duty apologized several times for the actions of the server. It should also be noted, I am 71 years old, a retired police officer and an Air Force Retiree, so we were not kids, nor was there alcohol involved. We were simply out for a nice evening and stopped to eat. I am pretty thick skinned and rudeness normally doesn't bother me, but he insulted my wife and friend, as well as sprayed her with a cleaning solution. I intend to address the manager in person. We all have eaten at this establishment many times and this is an isolated incident, this review is not intended to harm the reputation of the restaurant, but to address the actions of the...

OMG!!!!! There should be enter at your own risk signs posted on the entryway here. My boyfriend and I were looking for somewhere to eat after a late concert night and of course one of my friends suggested Waffle House. Typically, Waffle House isn't a place of world go-to eat, but when you are limited with places to eat and you're hungry, you do what you can. The cook looked like he didn't want to be there, but in hindsight, who could blame him. He was the only one actually working. The other guy and girl there were talking turns, blowing their noses behind the counter. I was past disgusted. I watched everything, and at least he had the decency to wash his hand. If he didn't, I would've walked right out of there. She stuck he tissue back in her apron pocket, to which she kept reusing. I did attempt to eat, but the food was not appetizing to the eye at all. I felt safe eating the dry toast, I requested, and the drinking the pre-wrapped orange juice. My boyfriend ate most of his food, but I could not. I was traumatized by the thought of eating a ham steak that came from a skinny pig. The ham steak with a bone was sooooo thin. I could not imagine where that pig was farmed. I hate to say this because I know everyone needs to work somewhere, but maybe the waffle house should think about sitting this one down. The bill was $35.00. Honestly, I think we deserved that money for hazard pay. My recommendation is to enter this establishment at your...